A Saturday Shop
by scriptmanip
Summary: Companion piece to "Resting on Your Laurels." One-shot. Keffy. What more could you possibly need to know?


**Author's Note:** an unexpected prompt [thanks, blondie] yields this unplanned one-shot, but I can only hope it brightens your weekend!

* * *

She still looks like a fucking rock star – purposefully unkempt, dark sunglasses, effortless style – even though she's making her way by keeping books or crunching numbers or watching stocks, something terribly mundane. Even though it's half-nine on a Saturday, and most people are, like, dressed for the day, Effy still looks like remnants from the night previous.

"I'm not being funny, babe, but do you even own proper day clothes?"

Effy's stood on the stoop of Emily's flat where Katie's got the front door blocked by her posture, like Effy just turned up unannounced even though it was _Katie_ who'd invited her.

"Sorry, Katie, you'd prefer I dressed in cardigans and pearls?"

"I'm just saying –"

"You're always 'just saying.'" And though Effy's just cut in, mid-thought, her cadence wouldn't suggest it. "Are you going to let me in? Because we can deconstruct _your_ fashion if you like, but I'd rather do it without freezing my tits off."

With some exaggerated reluctance, Katie steps back to allow her entrance, but can't resist critiquing, "It's called wearing layers, and using tops as _tops_ and not, like, the suggestion of a dress."

But Effy just smirks as she walks into the flat, waggling her fingers in front of Katie's face to show that she's at least chosen to wear gloves; and even then they're a half-arsed attempt because they've been cut off at the knuckles, leaving the tips of her fingers looking cold and red.

Effy drifts around the modest flat, and Katie tries only mildly to avoid trailing after her. It's still a bit unfinished, all the rooms [and there aren't many] still looking unsettled. But Emily's refused Katie's help in decorating, stating something vague about doing things her way and could she just let things happen in their own time. Which would have been a practical request, and one Katie would be happy to oblige, had she not already stubbed her toe on various boxes still littering the floors.

"It's very … Emily." Effy's made a slow spin towards her, nodding slowly as her eyes still wander about the room.

"In that there's shit everywhere? Yes, it's _extremely_ Emily in that regard," Katie huffs.

"Still, it's got her personality, which is more than I can say for the last place. Anyway, your sister's never been one to shy away from chaos, Katie."

"Lucky for us all," Katie drones with a dull expression, which then lightens significantly when Lewis coos happily from his bassinet.

"Yes, well, sending her off to Brooklyn shouldn't at all ensue in further chaos."

It's a bit surprising when Katie looks back to Effy that she's also watching Lewis, an unexpected curiosity hiding behind the blue of her eyes.

"Yeah, well, just speeding things up for us all, wasn't I? It's not like we don't know where this is all headed."

"You sure about that?" Effy challenges, subtly arching an eyebrow.

"So long as Naomi is as predictably loyal and pathetically sprung on my sister as she's always been, then yeah, pretty fucking sure."

Effy's amusement barely tugs at the corners of her mouth, near the edges of her eyes. "Predictable and pathetic, ey? Pretty harsh depiction of our Naomi. Thought you two were old chums now."

Katie's eye roll feels like a jump in time, and she's moved to scoop her nephew in her arms before turning back on Effy. "I've also just elected to spend my Saturday with someone I find to be, like, incredibly arrogant and obnoxiously aloof. So clearly my opinions on Naomi don't mean we're not also _old chums_."

Effy responds with an _actual_ grin as she falls in line behind Katie who's brushed past her and into the corridor. "Come now, Katie – that's a terrible thing to say about the baby."

And Katie's answering laugh is amplified by all the empty space.

* * *

Lewis drifts off almost immediately once Katie's secured his carrier into the trolley and then directs Effy to push while she checks her list. Effy stands there dumbly, her arms limp at her sides, and flicks her gaze warily between the sleeping baby and Katie.

"What? He's not going to, like, jump out," Katie scoffs and returns to scanning the small paper in her hand. Tentatively, Effy places one hand on the trolley. Katie can see, peripherally, and bites down a smirk while reading over things like: juice, eggs, soap.

She gets the hang of it, a bit later, though slowly. Excruciatingly so, until Katie speaks up and tells her that 'fucking _snails_ move faster' and could she, like, at least try to pretend she's manoeuvred a trolley through a fucking market before.

"I haven't," Effy says back, raising her voice just so she can be heard above the tinny music playing through the speakers. And Katie stops so abruptly, Effy nearly crashes into her from behind.

"You're kidding, right? Christ, you really don't eat, do you?"

"Don't be stupid. I've just not ever done with an actual _human_ strapped to it."

Katie's laughter bends her in half until she's leant onto the trolley for support, and Lewis stirs from the sound of it. His tiny face contorting, lips twitching, eyes squinting, until they're open fully; and Effy's own eyes go stock-still.

Gathering herself, Katie asks, "Oh, did he wake?" and peeks over the edge of his seat, runs one finger from the top of his head down the slope of his nose. Lewis' eyes fall closed again at the touch and Effy exhales. "Don't worry if he stays awake, he won't generally fuss if you just talk to him a bit." And then she starts off again down the aisle while Effy takes a long minute to swallow.

"Katie, I don't even like speaking to people who are capable of actual responses – so why would I talk to a _baby_?"

She's shaking her head as she stretches for a box of cereal on a high shelf. "So, don't talk to him then." She struggles for another second before Effy's there, making an easy grab for it and handing it to her. "Oh, thanks." Katie places it among the other items and then smirks back at Effy. "I'm sure just looking at your face will tire him eventually."

Effy narrows her eyes and flips Katie off; and then Lewis laughs, which seems to charm her immediately. Katie watches as Effy repeats the hand gesture, waiting for Lewis' reaction. When he laughs again, she almost, _almost_ allows herself a smile before pushing off again, confident as ever now to be handling the trolley. It's so ridiculous, Katie thinks, that she ever thought Effy Stonem to be so full of fucking mystery. When, essentially, she's just been reduced to a simple construct: gaining confidence from reactions to deviant behaviour. It's no wonder her and Cook were stuck like magnets for so long – their own little clan of aberrance.

"If Emily finds out about this new, little trick," Katie says, not really hiding her amusement, "you're on your own."

* * *

"Think they've sorted things?" Katie asks when they're back at Emily's, and Effy's just come back inside from a fag.

Effy sits opposite her on the sofa and takes the tea Katie's made them between two hands to warm them.

"I did have a barrage of angry messages from Naomi when I woke up this morning, and I'm guessing she was directing all that tension at me instead of seeking ... other outlets."

"Don't make me toss," Katie pouts, dunking a crème biscuit into her cup.

"Though I suppose she could have enjoyed a lengthy wanking before bed as well, if Emily wasn't up for it."

"Effy, that's my _sister_, for fuck's sake!"

"Sorry," Effy shrugs, her inflection still empty, her face still unapologetic. "Did you expect they'd just have a nice chat then?"

"I expect them to stop acting so bloody miserable, and get on with it."

"Get on with fucking each other's brains out?"

"_No_ – enough with the mental images, _Christ_!" Katie shakes her head violently, as if the images might fall out of her ears if she tries hard enough. "Get on with their lives. Get on with, like, _being_ together or whatever."

"Aw," Effy's head tilts condescendingly as she regards Katie, "you're a soppy romantic, aren't you?"

"Fuck off."

It goes quiet while Effy enjoys the light flush of Katie's ears and takes a sip of her tea.

"For the record, I hear your sister's an incredibly romantic shag."

The pillow Katie launches, misses entirely, and because Effy is still maddeningly intuitive, she doesn't even flinch as it sails past.

* * *

**Post Script:** *sigh* I miss Keffy.


End file.
